


Such Great Heights

by with_rhyme



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Community: dhr_advent, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, One Shot, Romance, Snow, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-04 17:09:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1083528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/with_rhyme/pseuds/with_rhyme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were anonymous, two shapes under black cloaks in the swirling white winter of Scotland. They existed alone inside this never-never land where your blood was as pure as your heart and the only things that mattered were the melting of snowflakes on your tongue and the feel of cold-chapped hands sharing warmth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Such Great Heights

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing for D/HR Advent, and I'm so grateful for those that nominated me to do so! Thanks also, as always, to the lovely mods.
> 
> The prompt was: snowball fight.
> 
> Short, because it's me, and angsty, because it's me.

The date was February twenty-seventh, the day cloudy and cold, when Hermione Granger tackled Draco Malfoy into a heap of snow. 

Taking no time to respond to the “What the fuck?” garbled around a mouthful of snow, Hermione quickly grabbed a handful of the cold stuff, and, fumbling it into a ball, shoved it directly down the back of Draco’s robes.

Grinning at the strangled roar that came from that, she quickly removed herself from her position straddling Draco’s back and darted away from him as fast as she could in the deep snow, trying to scoop handfuls of it up as she ran. 

Her smile stretched into a gleeful grin as she felt something pelt her in the back, hard, right between her shoulder blades. 

As she turned her head to chance a glance back at where she’d left him, Hermione found herself with a face instantly frozen, burning with the cold of a snowball now occupying all the spaces of her face.

Desperately trying to wipe the slush from her face with mitten-clumsy hands, she threw what powder she had left in her hand blindly, ducking behind the shape of a tree as she struggled to catch her breath.

Laughing, she stuck her head out from behind the tree after a few moments, arm raised at the ready, searching for Draco’s slim form and the silly fur hat she loved to tease him about.

As her eyes swept across the white plane in front of her, she felt something at her back, a breath against her neck.

“Hello, love.”

And before she had time to process it, Draco was plucking her up, hands tight around her waist as he swung her through the air. His laughter rang out bright and open in their insulated space between the snow and the sky and she was glad to join him, letting herself laugh until her lungs burned and her ribs ached, leaning against Draco as his lips brushed her forehead, chapped and cold.

Her “I love you,” slipped out, tangling with the snow around them, taking her breath, taking all of the blood from her face to paint Draco’s cheeks. He set her down roughly, the laughter having left his eyes, the air having left her lungs. 

The “Even though?” whispered from his lips was haunted, and scared, and it hurt her that this was his reaction to love.

“Because,” issued softly, confidently, caused his Adam’s apple to bob one, twice. His eyes blinked once, twice, thrice, still and glassy. They stood, two figures among the forest of trees behind them, the flurries encircling them, the moment consuming them.

They were anonymous, two shapes under black cloaks in the swirling white winter of Scotland. They existed alone inside this never-never land where your blood was as pure as your heart and the only things that mattered were the melting of snowflakes on your tongue and the feel of cold-chapped hands sharing warmth. 

Hermione looked at Draco, the long lean body leading up to a graceful neck arched back as he took in the snow tumbling around them, blinking as the fat flakes settled furry in his eyelashes, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. 

Draco’s face slackened, eyes closing as an expression came over his face as if he were about to cry, mouth pinched and brows drawn together. All of a sudden a laugh burst out of him, shaky and blunt, like he was unsure of how it had happened and what business it had being at all.

One laugh followed another, harsh and indelicate, until Hermione couldn’t help but compare him to a braying donkey.

He fell to the ground on his back, arms and legs spread wide, a broken snow angel against an expanse of white. 

The sleeve of his jacket had ridden up, the Dark Mark a harsh black against the almost glowing white of his arm and the snow beneath it, a stark reality in this winter wonderland. She remembered the night he had clawed at the mark in his sleep, tearing his arm to ribbons, a bloody mess staining his sheets and her heart. 

Draco raised his arm, the Mark moving unnervingly over tendons and muscle, the snake catching on scars. He was inviting her over, over an edge and into a moment that was important for reasons she would think about later.

Hermione fell.

Stretched out beside him, a sense of quiet and peace fell with her, blanketing her, tucking her into the snow and welcoming her into its stillness. As the cold seeped through to her back and bit at her skin, everything was suddenly and piercingly real. As real as the mark on Draco’s skin and the fact that he was warm and his hand was right next to hers and his breathing was stuttering in a way that was making her breathing stutter, too.

She didn’t turn her head, didn’t say anything as the almost-silent tears began to make their way down his cheeks.

But her hand found his, and as his fingers slotted into place, they were reduced to nothing but cold-chapped hands sharing warmth.

And Hermione felt content in a way that hurt.


End file.
